


I Need My Girl

by holdingtorches



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Asian Character(s), F/M, Filipino Character, Fluff, Foreign Language, Songfic, Tagalog, local colour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdingtorches/pseuds/holdingtorches
Summary: Tom wakes up and remembers his girlfriend is coming home that day. As he takes a shower, he starts thinking of their relationship.





	I Need My Girl

**Author's Note:**

> The song is “I Need My Girl” by The National, and during a Beijing interview, Tom himself admitted to singing this song in the shower. Reference notes for the unfamiliar words in this fic can be found at the end.

Tom woke up that morning, his blue eyes wildly blinking as the muted morning light streamed into his vision. He rolled over lazily onto his side to look at his calendar, only to see an excitedly scrawled ‘She’s coming home TODAY!’ on the box with that day’s date. Then he remembered.

His girlfriend was coming home that day.

She was away for a week and a half because of business, helping with the sorting out of  _Thor: The Dark World_ ’s score in Los Angeles.

Tom got up quickly and lithely, grabbing some clothes he knew she liked on him and setting them on the foot of the bed. He walked into the bathroom, mussing his bed hair as he walked into the shower.

The shower was running now, the warm water running on his skin. As the shampoo in his hair started to lather, he began singing the all-too familiar song that came to him every time he took a bath.

**_I am good and I am grounded. Davy says that I look taller._ **

He started to look back into the previous week. He fast-forwarded through his fresh memories, only slowing down when the highlights came along. Davy, one of the producers in charge of the new film he was working on, said that his performance during one scene was impeccable. He remembered the awards show he went to the day after; he had won in the best actor category. His week seemed perfect but… something inside him was a nagging force, telling him that something was missing and possibly wrong with his week.

**_I can’t get my head around it; I keep feeling smaller and smaller._ **

His eyes closed as he rinsed the lather off his curls. Tom’s eyebrows furrowed as he delved deeper into his thoughts, his hands scrubbing bath soap onto his skin. The fragrance was unsuccessful in alleviating his unease, and he was quite troubled with determining what was setting him off. Then it hit him like a freight train.

**_I need my girl. I need my girl_ **

He had spent the week without his darling girlfriend.

The memories of the summer they spent together in her home country flooded Tom’s mind the way they always did whenever he’d suddenly remember his girl. He remembered the bright sunshine and the tropical climate, not to mention the amazing food. He smiled as he remembered afternoon when she insisted to sit behind the tricycle driver, all the while forcing him to sit in the pedicab because ‘it’s safer’ (The tricycle wasn’t really that much of a tricycle; it was more of a motorcycle that was fitted with a pedicab). He remembered seeing her smile at him, the wind blowing her hair back as her fingers gripped onto the overhead railing attached to the sturdy but makeshift roof that covered the motorcycle part of the tricycle. He remembered how they alighted the tricycle as she paid the person she called ‘ _kuya_  tricycle driver’ while staring longingly at the man selling ice cream on the sidewalk. He remembered how her cousin Jhun-jhun pointed out to him that it was no kind of ordinary ice cream: it was “dirty” ice cream.

As she asked the person she called ‘ _manong sorbetero’_ for a ‘ _yung_   _ubeng_ _tiglilimang piso na nasa apa po_ ’ one, he couldn’t help but whisper to her that her cousin told him about what she was buying.

“ _Susmaryosep!_ ” she replied nonchalantly with an air of confidence. “And you believed  _kuya_  Jhun-jhun?” she asked as the vendor handed her some purple ice cream in a wafer cone. She turned to Tom and said “Don’t believe the lad; he’s never had this because he’s lactose intolerant. This is the same  _manong_  who has been selling ice cream in this area ever since I was four! Besides,” she reasoned, a smile colouring her voice, “I know you want some.”

Tom gave her an incredulous look, remembering when he first ate the same flavour of ice cream out of a blue branded ice cream tub on his flat’s kitchen floor, the treat tasting so scrumptious and cool on that unusually hot night. Maybe the open refrigerator helped.

“It’s  _ube_ ,” she offered, and at that moment, his defences crumbled. He took the cone from her hand and dug in, slowly licking the ice cream. It was like a blessing from God on that hot afternoon, except God in that memory was either  _manong sorbetero_  or her.

**_Remember when you lost your shit and drove the car into the garden?_ **

They had gotten back from the ice cream vendor, and they were now walking to her ancestral home belonging to her father’s side of the family. The distant sky was awash with a myriad of brilliant colours, reflecting palely on the concrete road. Her nieces and nephews were playing a game called  _luksong tinik_  in front of the gate when they arrived. The children stopped and took turns to grab Tom’s and his girlfriend’s hands and touch their tan, soft foreheads onto the backs of latter’s palms, all the while whispering “ _Mano po.”_  His girlfriend opened the low gate, which was flanked by two green hedges that were as vertically challenged as the gate they skirted, serving as a fence. The couple opened the big  _narra_  door, only to find her (secretly adopted) aunt waiting for her, staring at her sternly. Tom’s girlfriend whispered to him, telling him to go up to the room he was staying in. He didn’t find himself doing so, instead, he hid in the blind spot of the colonial house’s wide, wooden stairs.

He couldn’t understand much of his girlfriend’s native language, but he was pretty sure that the spinster was scolding his darling. It was something about her sneaking off with a foreigner ( _‘Kano_  was the term she had used simply because everyone assumed that he was an American the moment they laid eyes on his fair skin). “Just like your mother!” the horrible woman yelled, her fat finger shaking accusingly at his girlfriend.

At that point, all hell broke loose. His girl yelled back at her aunt, tears staining her voice. Tom heard the loud slam of the heavy door and the sound of his girlfriend’s old Corona revving up. He then heard a soft  _thud_  and the rustling of leaves. He heard children’s footsteps ascending the stairs, oblivious to the hiding person as they fetched their great-grandfather in the study. The old man hobbled down the stairs, and Tom peered through the railing to see if the bitter woman had left. She wasn’t there, and he hotfooted to the doorframe, where he saw the car. It was crashed into the hedge, and his girlfriend was hunched over the driver’s seat. His darling was crying as she told her grandfather what happened, the old man sitting on the front passenger seat. She was heaving as he got out of the car and walked out the house. Her grandfather smiled a sad smile at Tom, knowing that the gentleman before him wanted to comfort his love but couldn’t because he didn’t understand the situation.

An hour later, he watched from the  _capiz_ -laden window as the same woman who scolded his girlfriend stood outside the gate, her belongings stuffed into big bags. He saw his love’s cousin Jhun-jhun slide to his side, curiously watching the old woman, who was now stuffing her belongings into the pedicab part of the tricycle she hailed. The tricycle rushed off into the dusk, leaving the house in solitude.

“In case you’re wondering,” Jhun-jhun said, as if reading Tom’s mind, “our grandfather kicked her out of the house.  _Pinalayas._ ”

“Why?” Tom asked, guilt creeping up on him as he thought that he was the reason for the woman’s banishment.

“Well, she’s annoyed  _lolo_  for the longest time, commanding everyone else around as if she was a queen; in fact, she’s the reason why your girl moved to London for college. She couldn’t bear to see the woman’s face. That and she was a big-ass drain on our resources. Can you imagine how many times we had to boil rice for ourselves just because she would finish an entire  _pinggan_! She wasn’t even a real member of the family. My cousin might have told you she was brought in by  _lolo_  on account of his late  _kumpadre_ , who died in WWII and left behind a wife and baby daughter. That lady? She’s actually  _lolo’s_   _inaanak_. That hag was so kind while her mother was still alive, thinking that she was my grandfather’s daughter. Then her mother died, and she evolved into  _Doña Masungit._ Her nice attitude was just like a mask: easy to remove, but not easy to put back on.”

The loud-mouthed man studied his cousin’s boyfriend’s face, and he broke into a grin.

“Don’t worry, Tom!” Jhun-jhun said, slinging an arm over Tom’s shoulder. “A second of our love for you will always be more than an eternity of our supposed love for that old witch!” he said cheerfully.

Just as Tom’s mood started to lift, he heard someone shout “ _Yie!_ Bromance!” He turned to find his girlfriend in a psychedelic tie-dyed  _daster_  and slippers, a towel wrapped around her head like a fluffy turban as she stepped out of the bathroom. The cousins started bickering, and at one point, his girl said that Jhun-jhun was gay for the British lad. Soon they were chasing each other around the spacious upper living room until his girl disappeared into her room. Tom decided to retire early for the night and headed off to his own room.

**_And you got out and said ‘I’m sorry’ to the vines and no one saw you_ **

Tom was awakened in the middle of the night by the creaking of the wooden floorboards and the horribly concealed  _thud_  of the main door. He looked out of his room’s window, only to see his girlfriend in the garden. He rushed as noiselessly as he could, following her. He crept up behind her, watching her intently as she knelt beside the hedge she drove into earlier.

“Sorry, vines,” she whispered. “That woman was so  _makulit_  that she was driving me insane. Literally drove me up the wall—or rather,  _into the wall_. And, uhm,” she was stammering, as if unsure or afraid of what to say. “Sorry,  _engkanto_.  _Tabi-tabi po._  Here, have an egg,” she said, leaving a hard-boiled egg on the ground. She rose to find Tom gazing at her, and she smiled at him as if nothing had happened a few hours before. Tom returned her smile, saving that image of her for future references.

“You know, you’d make a horrible ninja,” he told her jokingly.

“I guess I’ll have to brush up on my ninja skills, then,” she laughed quietly and heartily. “I’m going to find myself apologising to the  _engkanto_  for the next few nights.”

The bells of the plaza’s church tolled midnight, charming the moment. As the deep, sharp sound of the bells droned on, Tom realised just how much he was captivated with the girl.

“Let’s go before my grandfather finds us,” she said, stifling a laugh as she beckoned him to sneak back into the house and into their separate rooms.

**_I need my girl. I need my girl_ **

Tom’s mind flew to his memories of the parade they were in.

He was standing underneath a  _kubol_  adorned with flowers and spade-shaped strawfans, spelling out the words  _Reyna Emperatriz_  in gothic letters. One thing was for sure: he definitely wasn’t the Reyna Emperatriz.

His girlfriend had asked him to be her  _konsorte_  in the  _Santacruzan_ that night, and how could he possibly decline her request? And so he found himself waiting for his girl in his comfiest suit and dress shoes because she had told him that they were going to do a lot of walking. Luke was there too, in front of him, wearing board shorts and a t-shirt. For a moment, Tom envied his publicist, partly because his suit felt stuffier and less comfortable as compared to Luke’s outfit and partly because his girlfriend would say “Mm, dem legs!” in a comical me gusta face upon seeing Luke in board shorts.

Finally, his girl came into view. She was wearing a modified Aminta dress that touched the ground, and her curls were let loose and up to her waist. She was wearing gloves, with a real-looking sword in her hands. As she took her place beside him, Tom couldn’t help but smirk.

“You really do like The Phantom of the Opera, don’t you, darling? I suppose you’re wearing boots under that dress,” he whispered in her ear.

“Shut it, lad,” she replied. “ _Kuya_  Jhun-jhun had always known that I loved the design of this dress but I never expected him to actually have it  _made_  for me. And yes, I  _am_  wearing boots. Problem?” she said defiantly.

Tom laughed an ‘ehehehe’, and his girl squealed when she saw Luke, who was holding a camera and a white unlit candle. She hugged him tightly and, just as suit-clad man foresaw, she noticed Luke’s legs and expressed her droll interest. He looked ahead of him and saw other  _kubols_  and tons of other participants. He looked behind him and saw a cross, carried by men and surrounded with flowers. People were starting to flood to the outdoors, carrying candles and portable electric lamps. Tons of people started to skirt in front of Tom and his girl, and he could only make out the five percent made up of her cousins and nieces and nephews. As if reading his thoughts, his girl leant closer and told him: “You know, they say that the  _sagala_ who has the most candle bearers—AKA  _taga-ilaw—_  is the prettiest, and her  _konsorte_ is the most handsome.”

Tom laughed once more, and the acoustic guitars and singers struck up, singing an old religious song in Spanish. The candle bearers (or ‘my loyal subjects’, as she had called them) started fumbling about, lighting their candles with matches or lighters and switching their lamps on. The participants in the front started moving, and they eventually moved too, at a snail’s pace with constant pauses. As they turned around a corner, Tom’s girlfriend pointed out some fans who had ferretted the secret of his location, waiting for the actor to look their way (Some of them were in gowns and heels, and he really didn’t want to delve into that). Tom chuckled as his girl protectively linked her arm with his and held her head high.

He could never forget the way she looked that night, her face softly illuminated by candlelight and lamplight. Her kindness and intelligence seemed to radiate from the centre of her very being, only accentuated by her plights and woes. He was enraptured in every sense of the word.

**_There’s some things that I should never laugh about in front of family._ **

Tom was quite close with her family, and she with his, but there were moments that stayed special only between the two of them. The times when they’d fight over the way Tom would talk with his female friends, or the way he’d apologise to her after realising that he had hurt her feelings. The special feeling they’d get when their eyes’ paths would cross was one that couldn’t be voiced into words. They had but one soul forcibly crammed into two bodies, and only in their love did they feel complete.

They kept all those kinds of moments secret to everyone else but each other. Their bond was special, like Gleipnir, which had bound Fenrir: no matter how fragile it seemed, it always stood against the test of time, distance, and temptation. Their love was copy to this resilience, reflected in the way they always found one looking for the other, just like that night.

**_I tried to call you from the party. It was full of punks and cannonballers._ **

It was during the after-party of an awards show he went to. His girlfriend stayed behind at their flat because she had to fix some orchestrations that were to be performed in front of the royal family the following day. Tom remembered the scene that went on before he left through the door. She was holding her violin and bow in one hand and fixing his tie with the other.

“Hey,” she said, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for leaving you to your own devices tonight. As much I’d like to help Luke with herding you, this is due for tomorrow. I have to make sure that it’s perfect, lest I risk embarrassment in the presence of Her Majesty. Is it alright with you, my darling lad?”

Tom assured her that it was ‘absolutely fine’, and he kissed her forehead.

“ _Huy_!” she called out from the door as he walked down the hallway. He stopped to turn around and say “What?”

“I have two requests for you tonight, Tom,” she answered. “First, you better win that award because I’m having none your ‘he/she was better than me, you know that’ pish when you get home. Call me domineering and quibbling, but you deserve to succeed in every chance you get,” she explained with a smile, and Tom laughed at her flawless impersonation of him. “And second,” his girl continued. “Your fly is open, you numpty. Go close it,” she instructed him before smiling and closing the door. Tom stood there in the hallway, flustered and humiliated before pulling his zipper up. In the end, she had given him something to laugh and smile about, and it brightened up his perspective for the night.

He had won the award, just as she said, and was now at the after-party. Through the flashing lights, Tom noticed that the room was chock full of condescending heiresses and, in his own girl’s words, plastic actresses. Probably the only good things that went on were the music blared from the speakers and Luke talking to a female fellow publicist he had been eyeing since Tom had stepped on the red carpet. The actor chuckled to himself and took his mobile phone out, dialling his girlfriend’s number. He put his mobile to his ear and imagined his girl’s delighted reaction as he listened to the ringing. No one answered.

He planned to confront her the moment his eyes made contact with hers, thinking of various ways to address his annoyance. It irritated him that she wouldn’t answer; he had placed several well-spaced calls after the first time he tried reaching her. He briskly walked along the hallway while consumed in his anger, but his frustration dissipated the moment he opened the door to their flat and saw her.

She was asleep on the floor, her hair in a mess as she lay spread eagle on her stomach. Her violin was on the bed and papers were strewn all around it. Tom walked closer and saw various scribbles of musical notes on music paper. She had obviously tried to stay up for him; there was a cold mug of her favourite  _kapeng barako_ beside her right hand. A fountain pen was in her other hand, the ink from the pen blotting profusely onto the blank scoring pad.

Tom crouched beside her and shook her gently, trying to rouse her from her sleep with a soft “Darling, wake up.”

His girl’s head started to rise slowly, her eyes still droopy from sleep. She sat up in the blink of an eye and rubber her eyes gently.

“Shit,” she mumbled groggily. “I’m sorry. It’s quite sloppy of me to let you find me in this state.”

“No, not at all, darling,” he assured her. “I was quite worried though—what, with you not answering my calls.”

She reached for her phone, only to find the numerous calls Tom had placed earlier. Her phone dropped to her lap as she found herself crying a bit, her head buried in her hands.

“What’s the matter, darling?” he said, scooting over to her side. He sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling her hair with his nose and trying his best to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry for making you worry,” she said between sobs. “I didn’t mean to. I just—”

“It’s all right love, I understand. It must be the pressure getting to you. Shh, Shh. Get to sleep,” he said, his tone as gentle as possible.

Tom placed the lass back on the floor and staggered to his feet, careful not to knock the mug of coffee over. He sorted the papers out and placed them on the desk after returning the violin to its case. He picked up the mug and placed it on his bedside table, thinking it would be best to do so before carrying on. He lifted his girl off the floor and tucked her into bed before changing out of his clothes and into his pyjamas. He crawled into bed with her and wrapped his arms around her warm body. It was only then when she calmed down and sunk deeper into her slumber.

**_I’m under the gun again._ **

Thinking of her while she slept sparked all kinds of emotions and memories in Tom. Usually, his girlfriend would sleep placidly, but there were nights that were vacuous save for her badly concealed sobbing. He’d lay on his side, pretending to be sleep with his back facing her, his mind plagued with the idea of comforting her. After thinking it over, he realised that he might only make matters worse by comforting her without knowing the real reason for her silent sorrow. It definitely wasn’t homesickness; London was like a second home to her, and she was constantly in touch with her family. It wasn’t a problem with her friends or co-workers either; she’d easily divulge those kinds of concerns to Tom without him even asking. So why? Why wouldn’t she tell him the root of the sadness so strong that it would bring her to tears? Then Tom remembered.

**_I know I was a forty-five percenter then. I know I was a lot of things._ **

His sister Emma once stayed in their flat for a week while she was out looking for one of her own. Emma and his girlfriend had always gotten along well together—in fact, his girl was the  _first_  girlfriend that his sisters and parents actually agreed with. Tom’s dad liked his girlfriend because she was secretly good at chemistry, and his mum liked her because of her passion for Shakespeare. His sisters liked her probably because she also thought that Tom was quite a dork, and his siblings and she would team up to tease him about his sex symbol status. Overall, Tom’s family was delighted with his girlfriend. Tom, Sarah, and Emma kept hushed discussions about her, thinking that she was the key to piecing their parents’ broken marriage together, all the while fulfilling the siblings’ hopes and solving at least one of their problems. Little did they know that Tom’s love had a bit of a problem herself. Well, until that night.

It was the third night of Emma’s stay in their flat. Tom’s girlfriend was fast asleep, and the actor, on the other hand, was busy studying a script. He snapped out of his concentration when he heard a light rap on the door, making him put the script down on his bedside table as he walked over to the door. He opened it, only to see his younger sister.

“Emma, what is it?” Tom asked her. “If you’re looking for my darling girl, she’s fast asleep and—”

“Exactly,” Emma whispered. “Come with me,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the kitchen counter.

“What’s the matter?” he asked his sister, who was now sitting on the countertop while drinking milk from a martini glass.

“It’s about your girlfriend,” she replied, and Tom’s eyes widened.

“What about her?” he asked worriedly.

“While you were out for that photoshoot, I heard the sound of crying coming from your room. I opened it to find her lying on her side of the bed, crying her heart out while clutching a pillow. I asked her what was wrong and—oh God, I promised her I’d never tell a soul and yet, here I am— what she said startled me.

“She looked at me and asked ‘Have you ever loved someone so much it hurts?’. Then she told me everything: her insecurities, her fears, and—to some extent— the depth of her love for you. She thinks that you deserve someone better than her. She doesn’t think she deserves to bask in ‘your perfection’,” Emma continued, enclosing the last two words with apostrophe marks she made in the air. “I asked her why it hurt, and she told me she didn’t know, but I’ve figured it out. Her feelings hurt because she’s being short-changed… When you kiss, who leans in?”

“What kind of question is that, Emma? That’s quite personal.”

Emma glared at her brother, slowly forcing the answer she wanted out of his pursed lips.

“Usually, her,” Tom sighed wistfully, embarrassment tinting his cheeks a soft pink.

“Precisely,” his sister went on. “She wants to know if you feel the way she does. It’s burning her heart out, Tom. In due time, her heart will crumble.”

“But I  _do_  show her that I love her!” Tom argued, whispering loudly.

“You have to try harder then. If you were trying your best, she wouldn’t have wasted her tears like that,” Emma countered before breathing deeply and settling down. “This discussion is over. Let’s go get some sleep, Tom. Lights out.”

Tom lay in his bed about half an hour later, still unable to sleep. The information presented to him earlier had riddled his conscience with guilt and made him rethink on how he loved his girlfriend. Through his reflection, he realised that he wasn’t really exerting even half of the effort she was, and yet she loved him all the same, not knowing that it would eventually hurt her. He rolled to his side and watched his love sleep soundly, her face made visible by the moonlight. As he watched, he made a solemn oath to himself to return her feelings as much as he can.

**_But I am good and I am grounded. Davy says that I look taller. I can’t get my head around it, I keep feeling smaller and smaller._ **

Only then, while under the hot water that poured from the showerhead, did he realise that he wasn’t living up to his promise. He would still hear his girlfriend cry in the dead of night sometimes, and nothing had really changed since he swore to alter his behaviour.

**_I need my girl._ **

Melancholy feelings surged through Tom as he turned the shower off. He was still lost in thought as he dried his hair off with a soft towel. He wrapped the same towel around his waist and thought about his girl as he walked into their room. She loved him dearly; he knew that much. She wasn’t the cause of the problem that disturbed him so greatly. Rather, it was him and the way he reciprocated her love. His love was unfair to her, who had gladly offered up her entire heart and soul the moment he had asked permission to enter her life. It was unfair for her, for she who would sacrifice her happiness for his own. Images of her played in his mind like a slideshow, and remembering her smile only heightened his guilt. How did he let himself turn that bright smile into tears and sobs? Why did he let her insecurity burrow its strong, gaunt fingers so far into the depths of her being? How had he become so thick to the point of not being able to even grasp the pain she felt? She wanted to feel his love, and he wasn’t able to do much. In his own way, he had deceived her.

Tom felt the conviction to change tug at him as he buttoned his baby blue dress shirt and tucked it in his trousers. He knew this was his final chance to prove his love, and he had to show her he truly, deeply, and ardently loved her. He wanted to help her, to comfort her and ease the burden in her heart. He paced back and forth across the room, thinking of how he would redeem himself. He ran his hands through his hair, desperately rummaging his mind for ways to woo her and make her believe his love for her with fervour anew. He was oscillating through so many gestures and so many words to say. He tried to remember everything she liked, and attempted at piecing them together in a manner that she wouldn’t misconstrue as awkward or over the top. He tried merging so many things in his mind until the combinations started to make sense.

Then he had his Eureka moment.

* * *

 

Tom’s girlfriend fumbled for the right key to their flat’s door. She found it and opened the door, only to find the love of her life in his best pair of trousers and the baby blue dress shirt that looked so well on him. He was standing in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide with a cocktail of emotions. Tom rushed over to her, longingly caressed her cheek before wordlessly leaning in to kiss her. His long, slim fingers wrapping themselves around her wrists as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, sending shivers down his girl’s spine. This was the first time he had ever greeted her this way, and she was exhilarated. His lips left a hot trail of kisses on her jaw before resting eagerly on her throat. Her breathing was erratic as he kissed the hollow of her neck, her fingers tangled in his curls.

Tom pulled away to close the door, luggage forgotten. He bent down to lift her bridal style, and he grinned from ear to ear as he heard shrill shrieks and giggles from his girlfriend. He set her down on the bed, going on all fours and guiding her down until he was on top of her. He chuckled as he saw her expression flushed with what she called  _kilig_. Tom leant towards her and kissed her again until they both pulled away for breath.

“Aren’t you a little bit  _too_  excited, lad?” his girl asked, and Tom couldn’t help but laugh.

“What can I say, darling?” he replied. “I need my girl.”

**_I need my girl._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Tricycle - it's like a motorcycle with a ...pedicab? Google will be your best friend.
> 
> kuya - originally meaning ‘older brother’, it can refer to any male who is older than you but not so old as to be called manong.  
> Ex. Kuya Kim, Kuya Efren, etc.
> 
> manong - Coming from the Spanish word hermano, it can refer to any male older than you that does not qualify for the age bracket loosely set by the word kuya (Yes, I know, it is quite confusing)  
> Ex. Manong Hermie, Manong Nicasiano, etc.  
> It is also used for the male Filipino manual working class, like jeepney drivers and traffic enforcers, etc.
> 
> sorbetero - a man who sells sorbetes (AKA “dirty” ice cream)
> 
> yung ubeng tiglilimang piso na nasa apa po - the ube ice cream in a cone worth five pesos
> 
> Susmaryosep - an amalgamation of the names Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It is an an exclamation of surprise, disbelief, or emphasis.
> 
> Luksong tinik - a jumping game typically played by children, where their hurdles are their hands and feet touching one another
> 
> Pagmamano - when one puts his or her forehead against the back of an elder’s (aunts, grandmothers, and the like. No cousins.) palm. It is a sign of respect, and one who is shown this respect should answer the child by saying “God bless you,” or, my personal favourite, “Kawaan ka ng Diyos”
> 
> Mano po - a phrase you say before taking the elder’s hand.
> 
> Narra - a Filipino hardwood with a very nice colour
> 
> 'Kano - American man
> 
> capiz - mother of pearl, used in windows
> 
> Pinalayas - forced to leave/ordered to leave
> 
> lolo - grandfather
> 
> pinggan - platter
> 
> kumpadre - a man who is the godfather of at least one of your children
> 
> inaanak - godchild
> 
> Doña - wife of a Don
> 
> Masungit - snobby, condescending
> 
> Yie - an exclamation used to call out OTP’s
> 
> daster -na loose, comfy dress worn inside the house
> 
> makulit - mischievous, annoying
> 
> engkanto - spirits that are said to mess with you if you do not apologise to them after hurting them
> 
> tabi-tabi po - a phrase one would say when crossing the supposed dwelling place of an engkanto
> 
> kubol - a light but heavily adorned arch bearing the title of the sagala and possibly her name
> 
> Reyna Emperatriz - Lit. 'Queen Empress’. A representation of Helena, mother of Emperor Constantine
> 
> konsorte - consort. 
> 
> (A/N Although traditionally, the Reyna Emperatriz holds the hand of the little Constantine rather than that of a full-grown man, this tradition is often broken because… well… I don’t know.)
> 
> Santacruzan - very much like Flores de Mayo, a procession held every May to re-enact Saint Helena's search for the cross
> 
> sagala - a woman who joins the Santacruzan
> 
> taga-ilaw - Lit. “someone who lights the way”
> 
> Huy - 'Oi!’
> 
> kapeng barako - strong coffee
> 
> kilig - the sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic or idealistic occurs.


End file.
